


Still Waters

by LucyWilde



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Alcoholism, Chance Meetings, Depression, M/M, after the end, and death, but strange musings about the human body, he wonders about weird things, liquor store, not quite body horror, remorseful tord, sad tom is sad, to be continued I guess, tord pulls a surprise bitch
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-06-08 07:24:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6844771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LucyWilde/pseuds/LucyWilde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He hasn’t touched his belongings, ever since he found the red hoodie buried half charred in one of the boxes. Before it all, he never knew why he kept it, doesn’t even know why he still keeps it. He won’t touch it though, that’s for sure. His vodka sits more than full on his nightstand. Tom knows his thoughts are the most dangerous when he’s sober.</p>
<p>or, drunk, depressed Tom has a chance encounter with Tord in a liquor store. These chance encounters reoccur multiple times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Still Waters

Tom’s life was still water. He woke up, ate breakfast, attached himself for half of the day to Edd and Matt, did the occasional errand, and drank himself to sleep. It was a circular routine. When he was sober enough, his normal day didn’t feel very normal. It felt wrong as if he had misplaced himself into another’s life. Often he told himself he was still adjusting. He would adjust to his new, singular apartment. He would adjust to his broken bass. Eventually, he expected everything to go back to normal. It wasn’t long before expectation turned into desperation.

In the afternoon, he sits on his bed. There are piles of soot and ash and a few boxes of salvaged items from the. . .Tom wants to go into the living room, plop next to Edd and poke fun at Matt, but that comfort is long gone. They live in separate units now. Sure, Edd’s door is always open but it’s the principle of it. If Tom were to cut off his arm and then place it on the bed next to him, sure his arm is still with him but it’s not with him. It’s not connected to him. If Tom did cut off his arm, how fast could he run to Matt or Edd before bleeding out? He closes his eyes and tells himself he has drunken too much. He hasn’t touched his belongings, ever since he found the red hoodie buried half charred in one of the boxes. Before it all, he never knew why he kept it, doesn’t even know why he still keeps it. He won’t touch it though, that’s for sure. His vodka sits more than full on his nightstand. Tom knows his thoughts are the most dangerous when he’s sober.

The day after, he’s sprawled on Edd’s couch. 

“ Why couldn’t we watch the movie at my place?” Matt whines. “ It has more atmosphere.”

“ I’m not going to watch you stare at yourself in a thousand mirrors for an hour and a half.” Edd frowns, throwing the bag of popcorn in the microwave. “ Beside’s, you don’t have any cola!” 

“ Aw.” Matt pouts, bringing his long legs against his chest. “ Then I get to pick the movie!” 

“ For fucks sake, for the thousandth time, I’m not watching Matt on Matt Action.” Tom scowled, slugging his bottle.

“ I was going to say Insane Zombie Pirates from Hell 3!” Matt ogled the DVD.” I don’t even remember how I got this…” 

Tom tips his bottle of Smirnoff back again, chugging what’s left. He throws the bottle in a random direction ( Matt yells out irrately, but Tom’s too drunk to care).

“ I’m going to the liquor store.” He burps, dragging himself off the couch and toward the door. 

“ But what about the movie, Tom?” Edd’s head pops out of the kitchen, eyebrows knitted together in concern.

“ Whatever, you guys start without me.” 

The liquor store is only a few blocks away. It’s freezing outside, but Tom’s blood alcohol level keeps him warm. He shoves his hands into his hoodie pocket. Sometime’s he has very abrupt thoughts. He often wonders why he feels the constant need to drink and he wonders why Edd collected all the ash from their old house. When he think’s about what had happen, though he always tries not to, he cannot help thinking Tord is dead. The guy exploded after all. They didn’t find a body. Just ash. So much ash. Tom sometime’s thinks maybe the explosion incinerated Tord. Maybe Tom accidentally inhaled his ashes and now there’s Tord gunk in his lungs. He shakes his head and rubs his arm. There’s a scar there that will likely always stay. He cannot help but feel branded. He eventually stumbles into the liquor store. The guy behind the counter spares him a glance and nods his head. Tom doesn’t know his name and the guy doesn’t know his, however, besides seeing Edd and Matt all the time, Liquor Store Guy comes at a close third. 

That’s why, when Tom saunters through the fifth aisle, he almost walks past him, having not clearly seen another human being in the past few months. It’s nothing dynamic or dramatic. They both stare at one another awkwardly. It’s strangely disappointing in a way. Tom’s not proud to admit he’s imagined running into Tord again, when he’s not too busy imagining Tord’s dead body, and his scenarios were always more animated than this. Tord stares at him (with one eye, he only has one eye), hand frozen in a move to grab a bottle of Akvavit. Half of his face is horribly disfigured. Tom waits for triumph, pauses for satisfaction but he feels nothing. 

“ Tom. . .” Tord says as if he’s uncertain. As if Tom is an acquaintance from a boring office job Tord has and always pegged him as abstaining from alcohol. 

“ I thought you were dead.” Has Tom’s voice always been this straggly? He can’t even berate himself for the tumble of word vomit. Tord’s arm falls to his side, abandoning the bottle.

“ I came close.” Tord responds and Tom can’t decipher his emotions. Is he angry? Tom has left him disfigured. He thinks Tord would probably want revenge. “ But no, I am alive, Thomas.”

Tom doesn’t even know how to go on. He thought Tord was dead. He really thought Tord was dead. How is he alive? How does one even talk to someone they thought was dead a few moments ago?

“ What are you up to?” Tom slurs. “Something. . .something evil?” 

“ Of course, Thomas, I come up with all of my plans for world domination in the liquor store.” Tord says. “ I’m obviously here to drink myself into unconsciousness, as are you, I’m guessing.”

“ Stop saying my name.” Tom hisses, rubbing his head. Tord gives him a strange look. ” Why do you need to drink your problems away? Didn’t you already blow up all of your problems?” 

“I never meant to-!” Tord responds quickly and stops himself even quicker. His eyes dart from Tom to somewhere past him. 

“ You’re right.” Tom closes his eyes to stop the world from spinning. “ You didn’t get to blow me up. Not for lack of trying. It probably irritates you knowing I’m still walking around with my face intact.” 

Tom doesn’t know where the venom comes from. He thinks maybe it had buried itself deep within him, so deep he forgot it was there. Now it’s clawing its way up. Maybe it’s all the gunk he thought he inhaled from Tord’s flayed skin. Whatever it is, it isn’t satisfying. 

“ I don’t think about you,Tom.” Tord responds, picking the bottle of Akvavit up quickly. 

I think about you all the time. Tom thinks to himself. It’s disgusting.

“ You should be.” Tom snarls. “ What gives you the right to, to destroy and then not be bothered by it. You have s-some fucking ego…”

“ You’re drunk.” Tord states. Tom stumbled toward him without clear intent. He thinks maybe he wants to hit Tord.

“ Yeah, what else is new, I’m always drunk.” Tom grabs Tord’s fluffy red scarf. So god damn fluffy. 

“ Your hands are freezing.” Tord remarks, hand lightly over Tom’s clutching fist. 

“ It’s because of you, nothing is the same.” Tom continues, his other hands coming up to clutch the scarf. “ It’s your fault. . .” 

“ I know.” Tord responds, voice thick with something Tom is too drunk to place. What Tom does know though, is that he doesn’t want to fight. Not now. Tom’s hands lazily drop from the scarf to his sides. He finds himself swaying. Nimbly, Tord removes his scarf and wraps it around Tom. It’s warm and it smells nice, Tom thinks to himself. He finds himself maneuvered out of the aisle, out of the store and before he knows it he’s dropped off in front of Edd’s door like a package. It isn’t until the next morning he realizes a new bottle of vodka is in a bag from the liquor store in his kitchen and that still waters are always temperamental.

**Author's Note:**

> This is it. . .the thing that drove me to post on this site was my trashiness for tomtord. I hope you guys enjoy it, I wrote it in twenty minutes with half a bottle of wine :|


End file.
